


A New Home

by Bolt41319



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt41319/pseuds/Bolt41319
Summary: For OQAdvent 2020
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	A New Home

The snow falls around him as he walks down the sidewalk, hands tucked into his warm pockets, taking in the bright Christmas lights that line the rooftops of the shops. 

Their move to Storybrooke back in September had been quick, and somewhat unplanned, but he’d found himself falling in love with the little town with each passing day. Roland’s adjusting well, much to his own relief, and as he’s begun growing his business here in town, he’s come to realize that it is absolutely what’s best for them, especially after his divorce. The first few months after had been awful, and it became quickly apparent that staying in Sherwood wasn’t an option for them in the long run, no matter how much he loved living in a cabin right off the outskirts of Sherwood Forest. 

He spots the sign for The Poison Apple hanging just ahead, the glow from the sign reflecting from the windows across the street, making it illuminate and reflect over the snow-covered roads. 

He’s found himself there on late nights after work, crowded around a pub table with the men from the shop, trading stories and drinking pints. It’s a good bar, busy and clean, but enough of a dive that he and his merry men fit right in. 

The owner’s quite something as well. 

Stunning, really, is the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of the brunette woman that commands the room each time he walks in. She’s quick to shut them down when Will gets a bit too rowdy, has tossed the man out of his ass more times than Robin can count. She’s firm but fair, a spitfire when some drunk bastard crosses her the wrong way. John, Will, and Tuck had their own fair share of run-ins with the woman before Robin came along, but he’s made it a point to always go back in after the men leave to try and smooth things over. 

They’ve had some conversations, the occasional chat as he stands at the bar top, but most nights it’s so busy that he can’t get anything past a quick ‘hello’, and a request for another drink. 

He listens though, catches bits and pieces of conversations as he watches the people around him. He’s always been observant - he’s picked up quickly on the fact that she’s the sole proprietor of the bar, that she’s somehow related to Granny that owns the diner down the way, and that she has a son somewhere near Roland’s age. 

The only thing he cannot figure out, believe it or not, is her name. 

It’s ridiculous, even to him, that he doesn’t know it by now. The men don’t know either, and though he’s there more than he’d admit, almost everyone in the bar just refers to her as Colter. And everytime they call her that, her brow furrows and her lips fall into this deep frown, but she never stops them, never tells them to call her anything else or bothers to correct them. She just walks off, finds another customer and moves on. 

Sometimes he’ll send the men off for the night, tell them that he’ll settle up their tab, just to have a chance to strike up some type of conversation with her. But she’s always busy, or by the time he can get them to go it’s just late enough that she’s done for the night, leaving Ruby or August to close up for her. 

Robin doesn’t fancy talking to them though. He just wants to get to know her— the mysterious, stunning bar owner with no name. 

He makes his way down the street slowly, strolling for a bit beneath the bright glow of the moon. Roland’s back in Sherwood this week with Marian, spending time with his Mum before he comes home for Christmas. He hates that they have to split time, but it’s not his place to keep his son away from his mother, and since she actually kept her time this week rather than coming up with something she deemed ‘more important’ than spending time with their son, he wasn’t about to strip Roland away from any moment he can get with her. 

It’s too quiet in his house without Roland’s infectious laughter ringing through the halls, and so he’s taken to working late, getting as much done before the holiday as he can so that he’s got plenty of time to spend with his boy the moment Roland returns home. P

As he walks up beneath the The Poison Apple bright neon sign he glances in, watches as the mysterious brunette wipes down the countertops. Her back is turned to the window as she sweeps up crumbs from the floor and he checks the time. She’s not closed yet, not really, though the bar is drastically empty compared to all the other nights he’s been in. She’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a red tank top, her arms bare though the snow’s coming down even harder outside her window, and a pair of black heeled boots that go high up her calves, laced right above her knee. 

_ Damn, _ she looks good. 

Robin debates with himself on whether to go in - she does look to be closing up early for the night, but a cold beer and good company seem much more appealing than his empty home and a bottle of subpar bourbon. 

He reaches his gloved hand out and curls it around the door knob, testing it just enough to see that it’s unlocked, and when he feels the cool metal shift and the door pops open, his feet carry him through the threshold before his mind can even keep up. 

.::.

There’s a bright light cast from the Christmas decorations that line the streets of Storybrooke, illuminating the stained glass panels at the front of her bar. It casts a calm glow throughout the old bar, reflects reds and blue and greens off of the rich oak accents so that it lights up the room around her. 

The clock behind her ticks, filling the silence of the empty bar as she finishes wiping down bottles, then flips a few barstools up to carefully sweep up the trash. It’s been a quiet night, only a handful of regulars making their way through her doors, settling in with a pint in hand to tell lies about their Christmas plans, or lack of. Some of them are like family to her, the family she didn’t realize she’d been missing out on. She had grown up in Storybrooke, but had found herself wanting more through her teenage years, wanting to see what life outside their small town had to offer, and so a week after she’d graduated college she packed her bags and set off with her fiance Daniel to Mist Haven, with no plans of ever looking back. 

Their plans for a future were cut short though when Daniel had found something—  _ someone _ new, and within a few years she found herself right back where she started, back at home, but this time with her five year old son, and without Daniel by her side.

Storybrooke was such a vast contrast to the life that she’d grown accustomed to in Mist Haven, but in the two years she’s been back home, she’s come to find that she’d been desperate for normalcy to return before she realized it for herself. 

It’s not  _ everything _ she wants, no, but… Well, it works. 

The bell rings overhead and she watches as a man walks through, her eyes glancing back at the clock still  _ tick, ticking _ behind her. It’s almost 9, and though she’s promised her sitter that she’d relieve the girl before 10, she turns back to the man as he tugs a beanie off of his head and shakes the snow from his boots before shutting the bar’s front door.

He’s come in quite a bit before, usually with a group of men, a couple that she’s had to speak to more than once when they’ve had one to many to drink, but not him though. He’s nice, always tips her well and never starts any trouble. Hell, he’s usually the one to stop the trouble, especially when Killian has more shots than he needs and starts picking fights with anyone who he thinks looks at him a bit cross. 

It’s getting late though, and although she had wanted to get out of here early, she doesn’t mind if it’s  _ him  _ that’s keeping her here past closing.

“I’ve got time for one, maybe two,” she calls out, making her way behind the bar. “But we close at 9, and I’ve got to get my son.” 

“Apologies milady,” he nods, unraveling his scarf. “If I could just get a pint, I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Or I can go, if you’d rather?” 

She shakes her head, turning to grab a glass as he pulls out a stool and has a seat. 

“Your usual?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the IPA tap that he usually asks for. 

“Sure, absolutely,” he tells her, tugging his coat off and draping it over the back of the barstool. 

She finishes pouring the beer, lets it rest a moment before sliding it in front of him. He hasn’t looked up yet, his head still cast down so she turns back to the till, opens the drawer and slips out the large bills, tucking them into the money below. 

The silence is unnerving, only the sound of that damn clock still ticking away behind her, the man's fingers tapping in a steady beat against her bar. She looks up at the clock again, watches as the minutes tick away 8:40, 8:41…

“So—” 

It startles her and she turns back to the man, who is finally looking up at her. He’s handsome, much more than she’d originally realized. He’s always in the bar when it’s busy and, while she’s absolutely noticed him, she’s not had a chance to really  _ look _ at him, and a part of her wishes she’d noticed him sooner in the few months he’s been coming in. He runs his hands through his thick, dirty blonde hair, and flashes her a good-looking smile as he lifts his beer to his lips and takes a swig. “So this is your bar, yeah?” 

“I’ve owned this place for a few years now - it does good. Pays the bills and all that. What about you? I’ve seen you in here before with Will and those other guys. Are you new around here?” 

He nods, tilts his head to stretch and takes another long sip. “I’ve just moved here from Sherwood. My—” he stops, his brow furrowing, fingers thrumming against the bar. “It was time for a change of pace,” he switches, nodding his head as if in his own agreement to his words. “I still work between here, Hyperion Heights, and Sherwood mainly though, so it’s not too different.” 

“Doing what?”

He grins at that, sets his beer down on the bar and clasps his hands together, leaning in just a bit. “My office builds homes for those low income families. Something to help them get back on their feet. We work around the community too, to build parks and playgrounds for kids.” 

Regina smiles, sitting up until she’s resting on the beer cooler, propping her boot-clad foot on the ledge across. His eyes flash down to her leg, the sleek leather boots that stretch up her calves to the start of her thighs, and he darts his tongue out and shakes his head, looking up at her just as quickly as he’d looked down. It’s been ages since anyone’s looked at her that way and meant it. She’s used to men ogling her at the bar, catcalling her and then becoming very aware of just how harsh she can be… But this, now, the way he’s checking her out without trying to make it seem like an obvious come-on, well it has her stomach fluttering, her cheeks heating up in a deep blush. “That’s quite different from being in here. Much more giving I suppose, good for the community.” 

“It is, especially this time of year. I’m a giver, you know?” he tells her, his eyebrow raising as he smirks. 

She can’t stop herself from laughing, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip, worrying the thick skin with a bite. “Oh, I’m sure,” she teases back, raising her eyebrow as she gives him a good once-over. 

God, he’s attractive.

“The holidays always seem to put people in a giving mood,” she continues, watching carefully as he returns the gesture and very obviously checks her out, lifting the beer back up to take a drink. 

“Everyone deserves a good holiday.” 

Regina slips from the edge of the beer cooler down to her feet, reaches behind her for two rocks glasses, and pours them both each a finger of whiskey to sip on. She passes his glass over and he nods, tells her a quiet  _ thank you _ and gives her a  _ cheers _ before he takes a sip, as she does with her own. 

“Decided to come in without your band of merry men tonight?” 

He laughs, finishes off the bourbon and sets the glass down by where her hand rests on the bar. “I let the boys off early for the night while I got some work done. My son’s at his mother’s this week so I try to get as much done as I can in the office while he’s not home, that way I have plenty of time to spend with him when he is. I’m surprised they didn’t come here though. It’s their favorite place.” 

She collects his glass and rinses them in the bar sink, setting them in the sanitizing solvent before turning back to him. “Oh, they were here,” she laughs. “The bigger one, with the beard, he had to keep Will Scarlett from pounding Killian’s head into the bar. The two of them have fought since before you started coming in with him, always picking at each other for something. It’s about time Will takes him out. I’ve wanted that ridiculous man out of my bar for years.” 

“Why haven’t you? I’ve seen you throw men out on their asses since I started coming in here.” 

She takes his empty glass, pours him another pint and then leans back against the bar, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s more bark than bite. Starts a lot of fights but the moment I get pissed at him, he backs off, and damn well knows it. I’m wicked when I need to be. But tonight, I was so set on getting out of here that I was letting Ruby handle things while I finished up paperwork in the back. By the time I’d heard all the commotion, your big bearded friend had his arms around Will’s waist and he was dragging him out while Ruby was scolding Killian in a corner.” 

“John,” he smirks, taking a long swig from the beer. “He’s the gentle giant of the group. Will though, he’s a handful. Growing up in Sherwood, we always had to stop him from picking battles against boys we had no chance of winning against. But he’d go in anyway, come out all bloodied up and yelling about how he’d get them the next time.” 

She leans forward, rests her elbows against the bar, her eyes catching the clock that hangs overhead. It’s past closing, and before she has a chance to mention anything to him he turns his head to follow her gaze then looks back at her. 

He sits up just a bit, pulls a wallet from his back pocket and fishes out a twenty, setting it down on the bar. “You said you’ve got to get to your son, yeah?” he asks, sitting up a little straighter. “How old is he?” 

“Five,” Regina smiles, pulling her phone from her back pocket and turning it to face him. She’d taken the photo at the park last month, right after the first snow had fallen, Henry bundled up in his snowsuit, his dark unruly hair sticking out from the brim of his knit cap, arms stuck out wide from his thick puffy coat. “Henry loves the snow, positively  _ adores  _ Christmas. Tomorrow’s the lighting of the tree down in the town's center and I promised him we’d go early so that he can get some hot chocolate and a candied apple. He’s been going on about it for days.” 

He scoots off of the barstool, flipping it over onto the bartop just as the rest of the ones are around him. “Well I’d hate to keep you from him any longer. He’ll need a proper night’s sleep for your big adventures tomorrow.” The man lifts his scarf and wraps it back around his neck, tugs on his coat and zips it up tight. “I’ll have to come in another time and see how it was. Maybe my boy and I can go when he’s home.” 

“How old’s your son?”

He’s beaming now, flashes her a picture of an adorable, curly-haired, toddler with a wide grin and quite possibly the cutest dimples she’s seen. “Roland’s four. He’s at his mum’s for a bit and well, it’s—” he pauses, lips cast down in a frown that she knows all too well. “I’m sure he’s having fun, and that’s all that matters.” He drops his phone back into his pocket and tugs his knit cap back onto his head, looking back up at her. “Will you be open through the holiday?” 

“Except Christmas Eve and day,” she nods, pulling his money from the bar and tucking it into the drawer, fishing out his change, but he shakes her off and tells her to keep it. 

Regina watches him carefully as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the pint, and the conversation. It’s been nice getting to know you without all the people in here,” he smiles, his own grin an exact match to his son’s. “Have a fantastic night,” he tells her with a turn, headed toward the door. 

“Wait,” Regina calls, leaning across the bar. “What’s your name?” 

He turns back just as his hand curls around the doorknob, turning back just enough to catch her eye as he tells her, “Robin. Robin Locksley.” 

Robin Locksley. 

It’s good. Fitting.  _ Strong.  _

“You?” she hears, and she flashes him a wide smile, runs her fingers through her hair and straightens her back. 

“Regina Mills.” 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you tonight, Regina Mills,” he tells her, his name falling from her lips like he’s been saying it for years, the heavy door closing behind him as he heads out. 

.::.

Regina wakes to the feeling of Henry’s pajama-clad foot pressed into her side, his stuffed bunny smashed against her cheek, a low rumbling snore echoing in her ear. He curls up and rolls over, his eyes fluttering open as he bumps into her side, an exasperated whine escaping him as the bright sun shines in his eyes. 

“Momma s’early.” 

“It is,” she smiles, wrapping her arms around him, his fleece pajamas soft beneath her fingertips as she tucks him into her side. He buries his head into her shoulder, his thick brown hair sticking up every-which way, and she wraps her hand around his waist and dots kisses to the crown of his head. “Are you excited to go see the tree today?” 

Henry nods excitedly, his head bumping her jaw. “Eli, at school, he said that the tree is big this year. But he didn’t see it all lit up though, with the pretty lights. I want to tell him about it tomorrow cause I get to see it allllll bright.” He shimmies out of her arms, sits up so he’s got his legs crossed beneath him. “Can we get hot cocoa after?” 

Her arms stretch above her head, her eyes glancing at the clock as she tells him that they  _ absolutely _ can, after they get dinner at Granny’s. She’s got some work to do at the bar this morning, her liquor order needs to be placed and she has to make sure everything is in order for Ruby tonight so that she can enjoy her last two days with Henry before he heads off to his fathers. 

She hates that she’s spending this Christmas without him. She’s not sure why Daniel even wanted this holiday with Henry - he’s not cared enough to be around for his birthdays or the other holidays since their son was born. 

Even when they were married, it’s always just been her and Henry. 

Her marriage to Daniel had been a whirlwind of choices she’d had no say in, a path carved out by him that he had blindly expected her to follow. She had her own dreams, a plan to take over her fathers bourbon business, a clear line toward a successful career but as she found herself in line to a bright future, his own had faltered. 

Daniel was a product of her mothers planning, a pawn set in place for a future she thought Regina had needed. When Cora had met Daniel’s father, the two of them had a business deal set in place, a plan for Daniel to one day run his own father's company. But after their move his own resentment for her grew, masked by his overbearing need to control her, and the second she was pregnant with Henry he was demanding that she quit her job to raise their son. 

Things never got better - he was always gone, spending time at the office, screwing his boss's 22 year old daughter, and doing anything and everything he could to be away from them. 

Staying with him wasn’t worth her own happiness, or her son's. And, as the fog had lifted and she had realized their time together would never get better, she knew that she and Henry deserved a life better than the hell they were living in. 

So, they left. 

Looking back on it now, she should’ve seen all the signs that she chose to ignore, each bright yellow  _ warning _ that flashed in her mind each time he said something rude, each time he passed off her achievements to highlight his own. But she can’t turn back time now, and though she went through hell, it brought Regina her son. 

Henry pushes his hand against her forehead and she snickers, reaching up to wrap her arms around him and tug him down into her lap, tickling her fingers against his sides. He squeals in excitement, laughter ringing in her ears as he yells  _ “Nooooo Momma!”  _ and her hands settle. He snuggles in and she tucks him in close, dropping a kiss to his head. 

He calms as her hands stop, his body snuggling into her chest, his fingers playing softly with the edge of her sleeve.

“I don’t wanna spend Christmas with Daddy. He’s not as fun as you Momma. And what if he doesn’t remember the presents? What if Santa doesn’t know where I am? What if he forgets?” 

“Santa’s going to know where you are, I promise,” she whispers, sitting up to tuck him safely into her lap, pressing kisses to his head, rocking him back and forth. Henry’s face is pressed into her sternum, his little nose sniffling as his hands play with his toy, but she can feel his body trembling with each thought that spills from his mouth. 

“D— Daddy doesn’t know how  _ we  _ do Christmas though Momma. He’s gotta put out milk and cookies for Santa, so he remembers to come! And you do too, you gotta put them out, just in case Santa comes here too to bring you your presents. And, and, what if he doesn’t put cinnamon in my cocoa? Momma I—” 

“Henry,” she whispers, cupping his cheek gently to turn his head to her, looking right into his eyes. “I promise that when you come home from your Daddy’s house, you and I will have the most wonderful, fabulous Christmas, just like we would if you woke up here on Christmas Day. We’ll make cookies and eat our yummy apple pancakes, and watch all the Christmas movies we can. Nothing’s going to stop this Christmas from being amazing, even if we’re apart.” 

He sniffles but nods and she lifts her thumb to gently brush his tears from his eyes. “But, but, w— who are you going to spend Christmas with?” 

She gives him a simple smile, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “My sweet boy. I’ll be just fine. Your Aunt Ruby, Granny, and I are going to spend Christmas together. I won’t be alone.” 

Henry gives a nod and she assumes he accepts that when he pulls back and sets his bunny in the space between them. His tummy growls and he giggles, poking his belly and looking up at her. “Can we have pancakes today too? Apple  _ and  _ blueberry ones?” 

Regina grins and nods, standing up and lifting him into her arms. “I suppose we can do that.” 

.::. 

The snow is bright as the sun reflects off of it, casting a shiny glow across the glimmering white. Henry’s mittened hand is tucked safely in hers as they make their way up the street, passing by Granny’s diner toward the center of town. With how shook up he’d made himself that morning she was determined to distract him with as many fun-filled Christmas activities she could until he leaves for his fathers in two days. He’ll be gone until the night of the 26th and while she’s dreading those four long days without him, she refuses to let it show.

“Look up there!” Henry shouts, pointing with his whole hand up at the huge tree in the center of town. There are workers diligently hanging lights for tonight's celebration, set up on ladders around the tree, stringing strands and hanging bulbs. “Momma, can we help?” 

“No darling,” she tells him, stopping as he does to stare up at the tree. “We’ve got our own work to do. But when we’re all finished at the bar we’ll head to Granny’s and start our fun afternoon.” 

Henry  _ humpfs _ but follows right alongside her, a backpack against his back carrying his winter break homework and a coloring book. It’s always a fight trying to get him to complete any assignments but he knows better than to push back at her, especially with the promise of their afternoon. 

As they get into the bar she gets Henry settled on his homework, turning back to the bar to finish up stock for Ruby, when her cell starts to ring and Daniel's name flashes up on her screen. 

She rolls her eyes, takes the phone and holds it to her ear. “Yes?” 

“I need Henry tomorrow night.” 

Her hand comes out and slams against the bar, holding herself upright at the shock of his words. She should’ve seen this coming, should’ve known her bastard of an ex-husband would try and pull this, knowing very well how devastated she already is that she doesn’t get this Christmas with him. His heavy, annoying breathing is loud in her ear, pulling out each ounce of anger that she’d pushed down over the past few weeks. Each conversation with him made her want to rip his heart straight from his chest, and it still bothers her just how blind she was to the true version of him all those years. 

“Under no circumstances will that be happening,” she cuts back, her voice sharp and dark. “You’re already getting Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day.”

“He doesn’t understand what’s going anyhow Regina, what does it matter? I need him to come over early, Lacey’s parents are having a dinner party and then want to go to some Christmas play. He’ll have more fun here than whatever…” 

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” she snaps. Her hands tremble as she brings it up, carding her fingers through her hair as she sighs. “I have two more nights with him Daniel, to put in every part of Christmas that our son’s been looking forward to all month. He does not need me to throw this on him with 24 hours notice.” 

“He’ll be fine with—” 

“No!” She yells, and she catches as Henry’s head turns, his hand gripping tightly onto his crayon, his feet swinging in his snow boots as he sits quietly in the booth. Her eyes meet his and she shuts her own, taking a deep breath to calm the rapid pounding of her heart. Daniel’s silent on the other end of the line and she wills herself to calm her stuttered breaths. She cannot -  _ will not _ , yell in front of Henry. 

Henry’s eyes are still trained on her so she gives him a soft smile before turning, her back leaning against the bar. “He's already a bit worked up over the different holiday plans this year. I don’t see any reason to pull him from his  _ home  _ to appease your girlfriends feelings.” 

“He is five Regina. Stop acting as if he cares about what happens. And Lacey's my fiancé. Henry has the right to spend Christmas with the rest of his family as well, not just you. Besides, don’t you have drinks to sling or something?” 

Oh that  _ bastard.  _

She only sees red, her fist curling at his words, knuckles a stark white against her tanned skin. “Henry is my son. Mine. And while you may have donated a small part in that,  _ I  _ raised him. I changed every diaper, I’ve kissed every wound. I know how he likes his cocoa and what his nightmares are about, and I’ll be damned if you think that some dinner with your floozy  _ fiancé  _ is more important than our son’s feelings. We’ll see you on the 23rd,” she sharply finishes, and she hangs up the phone. 

Her heart is pounding in her chest, her hands trembling as she sets the phone down onto the bar, keeping her back turned to Henry. She’s angry, furiously so, at the audacity her ex-husband has to think that for one second he has  _ any _ rights to Henry. The only reason she didn’t take him to court in the first place was because her mother had begged her not to—  _ ‘A ridiculous scandal such as a custody battle is not something this family needs to worry itself with Regina. And besides, Daniel comes from a good family. What if word got out you were even separated?’  _

How her mother is still so blissfully ignorant to the fact that she’s not only separated, but fully divorced, is beyond her. Her mother had moved out to Camelot right before Regina’s return to Storybrooke, and though everyone there still calls her Colter, which enrages her to  _ no _ end, it does help keep her mother’s incessant nagging at bay as to why she wasn’t able to keep her husband happy. 

She hears the shuffling of Henry’s feet behind her and she turns just as her son comes behind the bar, his hands clutching his homework packet. 

“I got my maths done,” he smiles, holding up the packet for her. “Wanna see?” 

“Of course I do.” Regina lifts him up onto the bar, taking the packet from his hands as he watches her carefully. She notices as his eyes glance down at her phone, a weary look on his face as his legs swing aimlessly, feet bumping against her stomach. 

They stay silent as she checks over his homework, making a note to help him redo most of it, when he lifts his hand and pats her own. “Why’s Daddy mad?” 

Regina sighs and looks up at him, lifting her hand to brush an unruly strand of hair back down to his head. “He’s just…” she pauses, trying to find a way to not darken his views of his father. “Daddy and I sometimes don’t see eye to eye on things, that’s all. And you’re very important to both of us, and sometimes what Daddy thinks is best, and what I think is best, isn’t always the same thing,” 

“Oh,” he sighs, looking back down at his legs. “Does he want me to live with him?” 

“No, no honey, it's nothing that big,” she promises, stepping in to tuck him into a tight hug. “He just wants to spend extra Christmas time with you, that’s all. But no matter what, you’re going to live with me, okay?” 

“Good,” Henry nods. “I like living with you.” 

Regina grins, drops a kiss to his head and ruffles his hair up a little bit with her hand, pulling a giggle from his chest. “I like living with you too sweetheart. This math homework though,” she jokes, setting the packet down on the bar. “I think you and I will have to take a look at that  _ after _ Christmas, what do you say?” 

Henry looks down at the packet, brow furrowed, and shakes his head. “I don’t like math homework,” he grumbles. “But,” he looks up, a small smile etching across his cheeks. “I  _ do _ like hot cocoa.” 

“You do?” she asks, her voice light. “I  _ never _ would’ve guessed. I suppose that means that we should at least try some out? Make sure you still like it?” 

“Yeah!”

.::.

The bell to the door rings overhead as people bustle in and out of Granny's diner. It’s the lunch rush and there are loads of people around getting ready for the festivities this afternoon but he cannot find himself getting into the Christmas spirit, no matter how he’s tried. 

Marian had called this morning to let him know that Jefferson had booked them a Christmas at his parents cabin in upstate New York, and though he was due to get Roland back home this evening, Marian  _ told  _ him that Roland would be coming with them. 

He had tried to argue, insisted that he would be in the car in seconds to drive up to Sherwood to collect Roland, that it wasn’t right for her to make his decision without him, but when he had spoken to Roland, had heard the excitement in his son's voice that his mom had already promised him a special surprise up at the cabin, he didn’t have it in his heart to tell him no. 

He gets to pick Roland up the day after Christmas, is meeting Marian halfway to collect his son so that she can go back to whatever her life is now that they’re out of it, but it's not soon enough.

His ex-wife is like a tornado, a whirlwind that swept her way into his life just long enough for the dust to begin to settle. She’d told him for years that marriage wasn’t for her, that she didn’t want to settle down, but to his own surprise she had said yes to his proposal. A few short months after their wedding though, after Roland had just turned two, he caught her with Jefferson. 

Marian had told him that it was his own fault for trying to tie her down. And perhaps maybe he was foolish to have believed that he could change her, make her see how important he and Roland could be in her life. But their move to Storybrooke had been what they needed to separate themselves from her, to allow her her own freedom and give his boy as stable of an upbringing as he could. 

So, he’ll give Roland this time with his mum, will sacrifice one Christmas so that his son can make memories and then when Roland comes home they’ll have their own Christmas. 

The bell rings again and the sound of a young boy's voice calling out Granny’s name has him lifting his head, turning to watch as Regina and her son come through the door. 

Fuck, she looks good. 

Her hair is down, flowing over her shoulder, coming out in waves beneath a knit cap. Her jacket is a deep purple that clings to each of her curves, and she’s wearing these dark jeans that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of. 

“Granny!” The boy calls out again, pulling his hand from his mothers to run into the restaurant toward the owner who is kneeling down for him with open arms. Robin watches as the boy collides into her chest and Granny lifts him in a tight hug, whispering something to him. When he turns back to Regina she’s not looking at her son. No, her eyes are trained on him and he feels a bit like she’s checking him out when she gives him a sly smile and steps forward, pulling her gloves from her hands.

“Fancy meeting you here, “ he tells her as he flashes her a grin and pats the stool next to his own, his own excitement leaping when she sits beside him. 

“Someone insisted that he visits Granny before we go see the lights,” she laughs. God her laugh is stunning, so lighthearted and beautiful, just as she is. “As you can see though I don’t blame him. I swear the old woman spoils him far more than I do.” 

Regina’s absolutely right though. Granny’s already gotten the boy a hot chocolate and is now listening intensely as he tells her exactly what he wants for lunch— what Regina wants too, it seems. She sets him down gently and the boy rushes back over to his mother, patting her on the thigh. “Momma, I got me chicken nuggets, and Granny asked what you wanted too and I said you’d like soup.” 

“You did now?” she laughs, reaching down to lift him up onto the stool beside her. He nods and bounces in the stool, waiting as Granny brings over his hot cocoa. 

She turns back, shaking her head. “See? Spoiled,” she laughs. “He’s got Granny and Ruby wrapped around his finger. It’s impossible for me to get him to eat anything healthy when we come in. They’ll give him all the pastries he asks for.” 

“They do the same with my boy,” Robin grins. “Roland loves it here.” 

She glances around him, her smile faltering a bit. “He’s not home yet?”

Robin's breath falters just a bit, his grip tightening on his coffee mug. “No, his— um, his mum called and said he’d be spending the holiday with her. He sounded so excited, I just… I didn’t have the heart to tell her, to tell  _ him  _ no, you know? He doesn’t see her often. Not ever, really. So while I’m not too keen on her having him for an extended time, it is just only an extra 3 days. He and I can do Christmas together when he gets home.” 

His heart is heavy as the words spill from his mouth, the weight resting on his chest and before he can say anything else her hand is curling over his, just barely, her fingertips brushing against the back of his hand and slipping around to squeeze his palm. 

“It’s not easy, sharing them on Christmas.” 

He shakes his head, his eyes focused on where her warm hand has curled over his own, her skin a smooth contrast to his rough calloused hands. “I don’t believe it’ll ever get easier either.” 

He looks up and she gives him a smile, squeezes his hand again but pulls away as Granny comes up to them with two plates in her hands. “You two know each other?” she asks, her brow raised as she sets what might be the largest bowl of soup he’s seen in front of Regina, and a plate of chicken and apple slices in front of Henry. 

“We’ve met before,” Regina tells her quickly, and the look Granny and Ruby both give him from behind the counter makes him sit up a little straighter. 

“Hmm,” the older woman calls out, looking them both over. Thankfully Henry raises his hand like he’s in school and Granny’s attention is quickly diverted as he asks for ketchup. 

A burger comes in front of him moments later, Ruby setting the meal he didn’t ask for down and pushing it toward him. “You look like someone kicked a puppy,” she tells him. “Eat.” 

“I didn’t—”

“Hey,” Granny bites out, shaking her head and glaring at him. “You’ll eat it.” 

“Just go along with them,” Regina whispers with a laugh, nudging him with her shoulder as she cuts up Henry’s meal so it can cool and passes him a few extra napkins. “Arguing with them will get you nowhere.” 

He follows suit after that, trades light conversation with Henry as he boy tells him all about the fun festivities going on outside the diner door. It makes him miss Roland even more than he already had, missing that time with his own son, but the bright smile that flashes across Regina’s face as he chats with her own son puts a smile back on his own. 

They all finish eating and by the time Granny comes around to give them their checks, Henry is positively bouncing in his seat, tugging at Regina’s sleeve. He doesn’t interrupt though, no, he’s intensely polite as he asks her if they can go outside now to look at the lights, and before he can even finish his sentence he’s leaning around his mother to look at Robin. 

“Can you please come too?” 

“I—” Robin stops, looking from the younger lad back to Regina, who is staring at him with wide eyes. 

“The lights will still be up through the New Year,” she cuts in, shrugging her shoulders. “Might not hurt to scope them out? For when Roland comes home, you know,” she pauses, and he watches her face carefully as she finds the words. “There’s a lot of events and all, might be nice to see what there is to offer?”

Oh, she’s  _ actually _ inviting him. 

He doesn’t want to intrude, knows how precious any quality time is with one's child, but the way she’s looking at him makes him think that she’s serious, and he would be daft to pass up any opportunity to spend time with her. 

“It would be fun…” 

“Yay!” Henry claps, pushing himself off the stool to stand between them. He looks up at Regina, whose cheeks have turned a soft shade of pink, a gorgeous smile making his heart swell.

Henry reaches up to take his hand into his own, tugging on it gently. “Come on Robin, I wanna show you my favorite lights.” 

.::.

Regina’s house is too quiet without Henry.

She had won her fight with Daniel, insisting that he had no parental right to pick Henry up before the 23rd. He must’ve realized that arguing with her was futile because he finally backed down, allowing her to have a quiet night at home with Henry, baking Christmas pastries and cookies for them to enjoy when he comes home. 

Now though, the silence is unnerving. She’s already cleaned up the entire house, rearranged the Christmas decorations, folded all of her laundry, and warmed up one of her apple turnovers. The sun has set outside of her window, darkness overtaking so that the lights on their tree are twinkling in the reflection in the window. 

She misses her son. 

Her boots are warm as she tugs them on, pulling her jacket from the closet and grabbing her hat along with it. The snow is coming down hard, falling in droves from the sky and taking over her vision as she opens her front door. It’s nice though, peaceful, and as she sets out toward the bar she feels a bit of that Christmas magic that Henry loves so much. 

The roads are empty, people spending the evening with their families, safe and warm in the comfort of their homes. She has plans with Granny and Ruby tomorrow, a much needed distraction from the loneliness that overcame her thoughts today, but if she’s going to spend tonight sitting at home, she might as well open up the bar, clean the place up a bit and spend her time being productive. 

Her walk to the bar is quick and quiet and as she unlocks the door and flips the lights on, she smells the rich wood and a warmth washes over her. 

It’s not what she wanted to do with her life— her plans never involved owning a bar or even coming back to Storybrooke in the first place. But as she’d come home from Mist Haven divorced and unemployed, Granny called her and offered her The Poison Apple. 

It had been rundown, a dive bar that she saw as a project, something for her to channel her pent up anger at Daniel and that creativity he had tried so hard to push from her persona. 

She syncs her phone to the speakers, turns on Christmas music and finds herself dancing through the empty space as she gets to work cleaning bottles and dusting all the nooks that sometimes are forgotten. 

A whip of cool wind sweeps through the door as it opens, a blow of fresh show following through and coating the entryway as a figure walks in. 

“Hello there.” 

Robin.

She can’t stop herself from grinning as he looks around at the bar with a puzzled look. “Are you open?” 

Regina nods, pats her hand on the empty bar and shrugs her shoulders. “The house was far too empty with Henry being at his dads, and I figured it wasn’t doing me any good sitting at home staring at my tree so…” she stops, sighing. “Here we are.”

The look he’s giving her makes her stomach flutter. 

“Looks as if you and I had the same idea then,” he grins, his accent thick. “Can I order a drink?” 

“I’ll even give you  _ two,”  _ she laughs, grabbing a glass and wrapping her slim fingers around the tap handle. “Same as always?”

Robin makes his way across the bar, tugging off his jacket and draping it over his shoulder as he moves. “Actually I’d love a whiskey if you can.” 

Regina grins, setting the pint back down and reaching for a highball. “I’ve actually got a bourbon that just came in last week that I think you’ll love. It’s smooth with these delicious hints of caramel and vanilla.” She reaches back for the bottle and uncorks the top, grabbing a second glass for herself before pouring them each a few ounces. 

He sits at the bar and she wraps a hand around the glass, lifting her own as he does his. 

“Cheers.” 

“To Christmas,” he continues, tapping his glass to hers before they both take a drink. 

Her eyes are trained on him, on the smooth line of his neck as he takes a drink, the rough stubble of his beard, the clear blue of his eyes. He’s watching her just the same, a sexy smirk on his cheeks and fuck, she wants to blame the warm spread of heat in her cheeks on the burn of the bourbon she’s so fond of, but she knows well that it’s not that. 

He lowers the glass back to the bar, circles the tip of his finger along the edge of the glass and looks up at her with a bright grin. “This bourbon is absolutely brilliant.” 

“Isn’t it?” her excitement takes over, leaning across to get just a little closer to him, her elbows against the bar. “I found it on the order the other day and I got to thinking, this with a nice warm apple turnover sounded like it’d be perfect for the holidays. 

Robin’s eyes go wide and he leans forward just a bit, tapping his fingers against the smooth resin that covers the bar. “Do you have any of those now?”

“I do,” she lights up, pushing off the bar toward their personal fridge she’s got next to the beer cooler. “Henry and I baked right before he left and I snuck some extras in there for Ruby and August.” 

“Just them?” 

She tilts a glance over her shoulder as she kneels down, rummaging through her staff’s leftovers until she feels the plastic tupperware beneath her fingertips. “Maybe myself too. I mean,  _ I  _ baked them, after all. Must try them out to make sure they’re quality.” Regina pulls out the container and stands back up, pulling the lid off and turning back to him. “Let me warm them up real quick, okay?” 

.::.

_ God  _ he wants to kiss her. 

He hadn’t wanted to spend Christmas Eve by himself by any means. He slept in that morning, lounged around the house until the afternoon then went into work for a while, tried to distract himself with blueprints for a new home in Sherwood that he’s set to work on after the holiday, but his concentration was gone. He’d planned to walk home from work, to pour himself a drink or three and fall asleep early, trying to make the time go by faster until he could pick up Roland from his Mums. But on his walk he caught the bright red lights of The Poison Apple, could see the reflection of the tree Regina had put in the window shining bright against the snow outside the window, and before he could stop on his own feet, he found himself walking toward her door. 

And thank god he did. 

Regina looks absolutely radiant today, her cheeks a warm pink with the heat that pushes into the building, though, he suspects the half-bottle of bourbon they’ve consumed together doesn’t hurt either. 

He feels the warm rush of a buzz too as he takes another drink of the delicious liquor, letting the warm burn wash down his throat. She’s telling him a story about the time she got kicked out of this very bar back when she was in high school, how Granny caught her red handed with a bottle of beer in her hand and a fake ID in her back pocket, and the laugh she lets out is so perfect, so gorgeous, and he’s positively infatuated with her. 

Everything about her is positively stunning, from the sweep of her dark onyx hair over her shoulder, to the way her shoulders shake when she laughs, how she’s leaning back against the barstool next to his own with one hand wrapped around her glass, the other hand resting on the curve of her knee, which just happens to be pressed into his thigh. Her story ends and her laugh rolls out into a sigh, a beautiful smile on her face. 

The silence between them is comfortable, quiet, but she takes a drink from her glass and then opens the bottle, pouring them both another round. “Do you regret getting divorced?” 

It’s something he’s asked himself night after night, looking back over the both good and bad memories of his marriage, of the heartache he still feels, watching his son grow up without his mother. He takes a breath though, sips the bourbon and shakes his head. “No, not at all. Marian’s a good person… in her own way. She doesn’t always make the best choices, and there’s a lot of times that I wanted to step into her life more than I already had but I just… It wasn’t meant to be that way, and that’s okay. It brought me Roland and he’s all that matters now.” 

Regina gives him a warm smile, her hand drifting from her own knee just a tad, fingertips brushing against the blue hue of his jeans. “There’s something about being a parent, getting all of those milestones, being their person. I don’t know if I would be here without Henry. He’s always been such a brightness, especially when I caught Daniel cheating and we had to move back here. I felt terrible, dragging him from his home like that but it was toxic there and I just couldn’t take being so unhappy anymore.” 

Robin leans in just a little, drawn to her, the curve of her lips, the smooth plane of her skin. “What about now?” 

“Hm?” she asks, looking up from her glass, her eyes meeting his. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“I try to be,” she whispers, tilting forward, her hand skimming over his knee, thumb pressing into his jeans. “Are you?” 

She’s so close now that he can smell the hints of her perfume, the sweet scent of bourbon on her breath. Her lips are a gorgeous pink, thick, and she darts her tongue out, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as her gaze darts down at his own. There’s a scar on her upper lip and his hand comes up to curl at her cheek, his thumb brushing over her jaw, her cheek. 

Time stills around them, only the sound of faint Christmas music still coming through the speakers, the warmth of breath so close, taking away the chill of the falling snow outside the window. 

He’s not sure who closes the gap between them first but  _ god _ her kiss is divine. 

She’s so soft, sucking his bottom lip between her own, her tongue darting out to sweep over his, and it's every invitation he needs to lean in a little further, to push his hand back just enough to card his fingers through her hair and tug her in a bit closer. Her hand presses into his thigh, pads of her fingers digging into the muscle, a quiet moan vibrating between them when he swipes his tongue over hers and bites into her plump bottom lip. 

He turns the stool, not daring to pull away from her as he shifts himself and reaches his free hand out, curling his hand over her hip, his legs parting as she works herself closer, her hand coming up to curve over his neck, her chest pressing to his. She tastes like caramel and vanilla, that delicious bourbon they’ve both consumed plenty of tonight and though he knows he’s got a pleasant buzz coursing through his blood he can’t feel it anymore, only feels her. 

He’s unsure how much time passes before she carefully pulls away, tracing a soft pattern against his neck, her forehead pressed to his as they both catch their breath. God he wants more of her,  _ needs  _ any part of her she’ll share with him. She’s pure light, sexy and grinning at him in a way that he’s sure matches his own stupid smile that he can feel on his cheeks. 

“Do you—” she pauses, putting just enough space between them so that she can reach for the bar, lifting her highball to her lips to finish off the last of her bourbon. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

Robin shakes his head, a little dumbfounded watching her as she cards her fingers through her hair and readjusts the bottom of her shirt where it’d ridden up to bare just a peak of her smooth stomach. “Not if you don’t.” 

Regina laughs brightly at that and his chest swells with pride and a little excitement as she leans in, drawing her lips over his jaw, his cheek, before finally settling over his own in a bruising kiss. 

“Come home with me.” 

.::.

There’s a warm glow from the Christmas lights shining through their front window, the echo of children's laughter ringing through her ears as Henry and Roland run in circles around the living room, playing a riveting game of catch with the balled up wrapping paper from their gifts. 

She and Robin had spent last night together, curled up in the warmth of their bed just as they had on Christmas Eve one year before. Her night though had started much happier than it had before, much less lonely as she surrounded herself with her new found family, Roland curled up in her lap and Henry squished into her side on the couch as they read Christmas stories and drank hot chocolate in their pajamas. 

Her head tilts up as Robin comes into their living room, stepping around the boys as they rush around one another, tossing pieces of paper and clutching to their toys. 

“They’ll be worn out in no time,” he laughs, sitting down beside her on the couch, passing a mug of coffee into her hands. 

Regina takes a long drink from her mug, the hint of baileys making her smile as she scoots closer to him, their thighs pressed together.. “What a difference a year makes,” she nods, looking around them at the home they’ve blended. 

Robin laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as she tucks into his side. “A little less hungover and a little more clothed than last Christmas morning.” 

There’s no worries of Daniel or Marian creeping in on their perfect day, no start loneliness of unnerving quiet as the boys show off their new toys from Santa and beg to go for a walk in the snow. It’s everything she was missing and then some, and as she lifts a hand and draws him closer to her, pressing a quiet kiss to his lips, she knows that in the past year, she’s glad she’s found her home. 


End file.
